


There Is No Trick

by Ilthit



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Circus, Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Community: purimgifts, F/F, One-Sided Attraction, Witches, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: Young Miss Level has attracted an aerialist.





	There Is No Trick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/gifts).



“You’ve got to tell me your trick,” said Bibi La Papillon, or Sally Banks as she was known back home. Bibi was a high-flyer, which was the most respected of all professions in the circus, though you might not think it when you saw the outfits they were put in. Really, she was slumming it hanging around the Level girls, who were only a psychic act, after all. But then, half the circus knew she was sweet on the left-handed Level girl. 

Nobody seemed to know their first names. The general assumption was this was all part of the prestige. The girls glanced at each other over the folding table, moving with that unnerving symmetry that spellbound her audience. Even their lunches—baked potato and spinach—seemed to disappear at the same speed and tempo. Bibi’s own lunch waited for her at a much nicer table outside the high-flyers’ vans.

“Go on,” Bibi pressed. “I know you’re not using audience plants like Magnifico, or trick knives like Tommy. Is it mathematics? Secret signals?”

“I really can’t tell you,” said the right-handed Miss Level, though Bibi wasn’t even looking at her, enchanted with the way a flush spread across the slightly different face of the left-handed Miss Level. Quietly, the right-handed one stood up and left.

The remaining Miss Level turned her flushed gaze to her hands, which twisted in her lap. Bibi scooted closer on the bench and tuned her husky voice to its most seductive timbre. “You can—I would not betray you. I promise. Never _you_.”

Miss Level let out an exasperated sigh and locked eyes with Bibi. “You like me, don’t you? _This_ body, specifically.”

“Have I been so obvious?” asked Bibi, who had been doing her very best to be obvious. 

“Why me and not—my sister?”

“Darling, trust me, you are special. I know it. I’ve seen it!”

“Have you?”

“You are kind, and humble, and sweet… Just now I noticed you stop and give a saucer of milk to a hungry kitten while your sister stood by and did nothing.” 

“Why should she have done anything? The cat already had milk.”

“I’ve seen how you go around to the sideshows to bring them leftovers when the weather’s driven away their clients. I didn’t see your sister do anything of the sort. Oh, darling, you are so much more than just a twin!” She leaned in closer still, but Miss Level scooted back, hit the edge of the bench, and stumbled on to her feet. 

“Bibi, stop it. You’re only seeing what you want to see.” 

“But… I adore you!”

“You adore a picture in your head. Stop doing that. And go get your own lunch.” 

Perhaps it was the first magic—or witching—Miss Level ever did, but Bibi went and got lunch. And she must have stopped thinking about the left-handed Miss Level, too, because in a few weeks there found herself going back to see the snake dancer after hours, traversing the entire circus picking order from acrobat to sideshow. Miss Level seemed nothing but relieved.


End file.
